Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 179189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 896(@200wpm)___ 717(@250wpm)___ 597(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 896(@200wpm)___ 717(@250wpm)___ 597(@300wpm)
Goddamn him and his charms.
“I just don’t like being followed.”
“Right,” I reply, trying to cut things off, but he won’t let up.
“Plus, staying at the palace is boring.”
“Oh, do tell,” I say with a pinch of snark. I hope he won’t throw me in jail. Probably not, but I shouldn’t push my luck.
“Hey, it’s not easy, you know. Being a prince.”
Of course. Here we go.
“Really? Because girls aren’t waiting in line for you? Because you have so much money and so little to spend it on?”
“No, that’s not the point,” he says, frowning. “And I don’t have girls lining up for me.”
“Sure about that? I just saw you whispering to another one back there,” I say, gawking at the stall where I saw him.
“That lady was being harassed by the stall owner because she stole some jewelry,” he says with a sudden serious face. “All I did was give the man his necklace back and give her some money so she could buy food with it.”
“Food?” I bite my lip. “But—”
“Not everyone here has enough to get by,” he says. “I just wanted to help. So I told her she could come to the palace and ask for Mrs. Adallah so she wouldn’t have to resort to crime to pay for her food. That’s all.”
Wow.
That … just blew me away.
I’m momentarily fazed. I don’t know what to do or what to say other than stare. I feel like an idiot. I misjudged him, and now I feel bad for doing it. Damn.
“Oh … that’s really nice of you,” I reply, licking my lips, wishing I had something better to say.
He shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”
I nod and continue picking up fabrics, trying not to make this any more uncomfortable than it already is. Maybe he really is a nice guy, deep down.
“So what are you doing?” he asks after a while.
“Buying fabric for the designs.”
“Ooh, nice! See anything good yet?” He casually strolls behind me, not letting me out of his sight.
“I’m trying,” I reply, hinting that I need to get to work.
“What about this?” He holds up a blue one with white lines on it, which would look horrible with what I have in mind.
I laugh. “God, no.”
“Or this?” He holds up another one, this time a pure red one with tiny stars on it.
He clearly enjoys picking the worst ones just to see my reaction. That or he’s really clueless about style. Either way, I’m not sure what he’s going for or why he’s even here.
I stop in my tracks, and say, “Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to help me, but—”
He’s suddenly right in front of me, waving a thin white fabric in front of my eyes that has bold black lines on it. “This one then.”
I lower the fabric so I can look into his eyes. But I’m not prepared for the effect they have on me because it reminds me of when we kissed … and how we fucked almost immediately after that. Heat bubbles to the surface of my skin.
“What do you think?” he asks, raising a brow in such an arrogant way that I can’t even look away.
I smirk as I touch the fabric. It’s actually not even that bad. “You want this?”
He licks his lips. “Oh, yes …”
A shiver runs up and down my spine.
Why do I get the sense he’s not talking about the fabric?
He lowers it farther, and says, “There’s more that I want, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to ask.”
I’m completely stunned. Flabbergasted. My whole face turns red.
I immediately turn around and grab something else, something I don’t need, a ribbon, but anything is good right now because it means I can use it as an escape.
“This will go perfect with that,” I mutter, snatching the fabric away from him and then walking away to another shelf.
I don’t know what it is about him that makes me so panicky. Maybe it’s his looks, his gazes, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s a prince and I’m just a random girl from America trying to make her business work.
And this guy … he’s jeopardizing it all, and for what?
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Grabbing the things I need and then leaving.”
“But we were just having fun.”
I stop in my tracks right as he turns the corner toward me again. “I’m not here to play games.”
“Who says I’m playing games? I’m dead serious,” he says, approaching me.
He’s got me cornered between two shelves now. Shit.
“I just want to talk.”
“Why? What’s so important?” I ask.
His tone is so smooth, it’s hard not to completely hone in on his lips. “Well, for starters, I wanna know why you’re doing your very best to avoid me.”
I rub my lips together, trying to form a reply, but I have no clue what to say. I don’t want to admit that I feel something when I’m around him—whatever it is that I’m feeling—because it just can’t happen.